


Patience was never this hard.

by Iluvfanfic



Series: Violet Twilight Shorts [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: FE3H au, Gen, Homesickness, I promise it isn't that bad, I will bend canon till it cries out my name, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Anxiety, Taguel OC, Taguel in FE3H, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iluvfanfic/pseuds/Iluvfanfic
Summary: Verra, a young Taguel of 17 years has been newly sent to the monastery and is thrust into a new world of nobles and commoners alike. How can she fare in a world so different? Apparently, not as well as she'd hope.
Relationships: Hints at OC/Claude Von Riegan
Series: Violet Twilight Shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873231
Kudos: 2
Collections: Fire Emblem Three Houses Violet Twilight





	Patience was never this hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes before we proceed: This story is but a slice of a much larger AU created by me and my friend @Comycat called Violet Twilight. It's going to be a big wide world of our oc's interacting with this world... Maybe you'll want to join in on the fun too? All I can say here is, there is much, MUCH more than our text can let on... Only time will reveal what's between the lines.

The day was honestly really… slow. Too slow. Verra had been learning under Manuela since she had arrived, but yet again didn't understand how faith could tie into magic. Why did religion need to be such an important part, when the point was to heal others? She believed that the moon would guide the wayward souls, not the goddess revered so heavily in the church. The entire concept of it was so foreign to her; why did she need to become a devotee to their texts and codes? Was the concept of another belief so foreign to the people of Fodlan? Was it such a sin to have other thoughts of what was thought sacred? While the goddess sounded so benevolent and wiser than life itself, she remembers hearing of ‘divine punishment’ and scorn towards those believed to be heretics. Hate towards those who they did not wish to understand. In that regard, the goddess only gave her a cold feeling of dread in her heart, for the greatest form of love was that which was unconditional in her opinion.

And besides the questionable practice behind it, faith, as all other magic tended to be to her chagrin, was extremely complex! It required near-unbreakable concentration, a will of steel and memory of hundreds, maybe thousands of symbols in order to form them into magic circles. Verra knew none of this. And… maybe it didn’t suit her to know. Teaching her was probably a nuisance, she knew. No matter how much she tried to understand it, nothing helped in the slightest. Hours would pass of trying to get her to learn the basics but even then she couldn’t manage to trace more than a wobbly line in the air. Verra knew she was a bother. Why wouldn’t she be? Manuela was most certainly driving herself mad with needing to repeat herself so much…

In the end of the day, she was never going to be good enough at it. Not now, perhaps never. She was never going to be as advanced as the actual students, nor was she as booksmart and studious as the nobles. She needed to be better, smarter, wiser and more concentrated in the art, but no matter what she did she would never be able to be as helpful as, say, Marianne or Mercedes. 

  
Teaching her was probably a waste to them. It's her fault for not knowing. She probably looked like an idiot; uncultured and brutish as she hunched over a textbook to come to the same conclusion: she’ll never understand. And thus, it was better if she didn’t continue to waste their time. In her eyes, the conclusion was quite straightforward. Logical, even. 

  
But behind it was a fear. A fear of not being good enough. A fear of being rejected for her inability to do what everyone else could do with  _ ease.  _

Verra grimaced at the thought of Manuela trying to teach her reason next; that was even more complicated! So many long words and complex concepts and symbols, and the  _ formulas _ . Great Diane, the  _ formulas. _ The idea that someone could possibly understand such wretched texts was something to behold. One time Verra had caught a glimpse of Lysithea’s workbooks, and the text was practically as small as ants! And she’s seen larger ants!

If such extensive study was needed to attack, she would simply attack head-on instead of letting her mind try to weave an endless web of complicated squabble. Or maybe she would be like the archers from her tribe, waiting in the trees outside their camps to guard against intruders. 

She walked back down the halls and through the stairway, hesitantly greeting the nuns that passed by. Their stares seemed to be cold and calm, but the looks on their faces screamed a different sort of chill. They eyed her like she didn't belong there, and indeed she didn't. Verra was but a beast under the guise of a tame individual in their eyes. Perhaps in everyone’s eyes. Was this how every foreigner was treated? With such stigma, as though they knew of her without even knowing the first thing about her? 

They’d never know of how she truly was. Her favorite things to do, talents, ideas and opinions. They only saw the bare shell without caring to see who made her up as a person. Perhaps this is why they didn’t see her as a person from the start. 

They spent a brief lapse of time eyeing each other as they crossed paths, Verra sent a smile their way and let it drop as soon as it came upon her features. What did she do to be scorned so? She, who had provided no harm or insult upon them, yet at the sight of her their faces grow so sour. Was it her fur? Her ears? Her tail? Sure she had a rather… rabbitlike appearance, but it wasn’t that bad, right? Her heart is identical to theirs, pumping blood all the same. Her mind was still there, and with that her personality. Her hands are still able to provide a caring touch and her voice is equally capable to soothe. 

She paces by the lake and sees her reflection. She looked fairly human, but the differences were clear. Paws in place of feet. Furred forearms and neck. Long and droopy rabbit-like ears with two spiked nubs each. Engraved markings on her face. A short tail that poked out of her modified and oversized uniform. Who was she trying to fool? In their eyes, she was probably a monster, tamed just enough to feign humanity. 

The thought made her sick. 

  
She shifts her feet into those akin to humans and walks aimlessly, still running with thoughts. Instead of solace she’s met with cool cobblestone and bits of rubble on the flooring that makes her bristle slightly. And still, her mind doesn’t cease its chatter. 

Verra came to a stop at the hedges. What was she doing here? She belonged elsewhere, thriving with her kin and growing alongside them. Not here, in a position where any warren would’ve fit the political requirement more effortlessly. But the warrens were too scarred from battle and too torn to negotiate terms. Too wary after fighting against so many human invaders, except the head-warren, who was in turn too important to leave the others. The people of Fodlan were too hostile towards other races, even other humans, for something as inconsequential as the color of their skin!… perhaps it was better she was sent.

But… Why did the head-warren pick her without questioning it first?

It was still class time for most of the students, it seems. Despite all of the noise that came with their presence, she still wanted to talk to someone. 

Perhaps Leonie, as her ideas were so refreshing and more practical than any of her Warrens could ever be. 

Or Petra; she always felt a sort of familiarity with her; if it weren’t for her appearance Verra would mistake her for kin. Interacting with the woman was like finally finding still safety in such a strange environment.

Raphael, though intimidating to look at was also quite thoughtful. Their brief talks were also more lighthearted than she could ask for. Though he was the tallest and bulkiest student in the monastery, his features were soft, kind and gentle while his personality was comforting to be around.

Aleu was also nice to talk to, and her company was always sweet. The thought of more races being out there intrigued her to no end, and the questions she wished to ask her were growing the more she talked to her. Did she also have a tribe? What were they like? Could she also transform? What was it like to have such a long tail? 

Considering the Vargr’s reserved nature, however, it was better to ask such questions once they arose, curiosity be damned. If only she could talk to Nemean without him being so adamant on avoiding her. Was there something  _ else _ wrong with her, that even she didn’t know of? 

Why was she seen with such prejudice among many in the monastery? 

...Perhaps she could also talk to Claude… though the thought brought a strange sort of fluttering anxiety. What could she possibly talk about? How would she react? Claude was lighthearted but his eyes had a silent calculation as he smiled. What did he think about her? Did he too think of her as less than human? 

The questions were too many and the worst-case scenarios even more so. It would probably be better if she didn’t talk to him yet.. She wasn’t even in a proper class. Not even belonging to the same house, nor a noble worth listening to. Perhaps not even a commoner, in his eyes. Only a bystander or an animal that was most likely irrelevant. 

Plus she might act oddly in front of him, not used to whatever cultural norm the nobles knew by heart. What if she disrespected him somehow? What if he thought she smelled bad like Lorenz had so distastefully exclaimed? What if she tripped on her feet? What if her smile wasn’t graceful enough? She took a brief sniff of her hair; it smelled as it always did, of rose oil.

She was about to take a quick check of her arm but upon seeing a nun staring at her with an indescribable expression, she smiled nervously and sped over somewhere she couldn’t be seen, a newfound embarrassment washing over her. Maybe talking to Claude wasn’t a good idea for now. It’s not like he would pay much attention to her anyway, the entire monastery was filled with more suited nobles. 

She walked through the hedges, towards the dining hall and through the different smells of fresh fish and regional spices. The cooks always tried to cater to the different lands and cultures of the noble students, but she imagined it wouldn’t be the same as their homeland’s approach to it. Would the other students enjoy this particular meal? The cooks were going in and out of the kitchen like bees, all of them working the best they could to make enough meals for the students and the faculty. Such a stressful job.

Finding herself still standing in the middle of the dining hall, she quickened her pace to the stairwell that led to the greenhouse. Without the endless chatter of students, the monastery was relatively peaceful. The rank smell of fish soon bled into the scent of a multitude of flowers and earth as she approached. 

She sighed as she padded over through the entrance to the greenhouse, grabbing a nearby watering can and filling it to the brim with crystalline water. Watering the plants was cathartic in a way, spreading life and preserving life, but also remembering the give and take that came with it. The push and pull forces that compelled the world to continue its order.

Not that she thought too deeply into the action of caring for them, that is. Most of her time was spent plucking weeds, checking for possible pests or parasites and letting her mind wander by as she read the various signs in the soil with the student’s names engraved on them. Not all of the students used the greenhouse, but Professor Byleth had always been fond of sending seeds and similar things to be planted. Otherwise, nearly all of the more recognizable students tended to the greenhouse as part of their chores; all Verra needed to do was check for pests or cultivate the plants here and then. At least she knew how to infuse sprouts with magic-- which was something beginners learned on their first week, not the first month. The ginger girl from the blue lions—Annette would come inside and water them. Her singing was lively and enjoyable to hear from a distance, though she was quite self-conscious if others approached. This was similar to Bernadetta, but the Taguel didn’t dare approach her, knowing full well how skittish she could be. She remembers passing by Felix, who was dumbfounded at how she had managed to disarm  _ him _ . It’s better to leave some waters still. 

Verra could relate. 

Hilda would also come in, talking about preserving the flowers for Raphael to take to his sister. Though she tried to keep the guise of being lazy and superficial, Hilda was a thoughtful and more detailed soul than most could say. The flowers she picked were always small and vibrant, always fragrant and sweet smelling. 

The Vargr, Aleu, she recalled, was also in the greenhouse, though at less frequent times due to her plants not being as demanding. She always had a patch of succulents among other plants, big and small, varying in color and size and shape and always beautiful to look at. 

In a way, there was a piece of everyone in the greenhouse. The plants they prefer, the seeds they use, all of them had their personality shining through when least expected. 

Verra smiled to herself as she glanced at the opposite end of the greenhouse. Her patch. Full of prized carrots from her tribe; plump, juicy and sweet. Soon she’d have a feast… it was simply a matter of time until they ripened. Oh, the things she would make with them. She could steam them, make them into cake, eat them as-is, make it into ale or tea, make a salad… The possibilities were endless!

Her eyes set on a nearby tomato vine growing steadily on a shaved but sturdy stick. It belonged to Dedue; he must like them, since they’re frequently growing in his spot. At times she would encounter the man from Duscur in the greenhouse. He shared no words, so neither did she. It was spent in a quiet and oddly comforting silence as they worked on their own devices. At times she looked at the plants he tended to, only to find tenderly cared for blooms or vegetables from different lands. That man, Dedue, although hardened and rugged on the outside was softer than she. 

If only he were more approachable. 

The training grounds were constantly filled with shouts or grunts from different students as they sparred, and at times the door was opened just a bit to show the students’ prowess at battle. Dedue was one of them, wielding a training axe or gauntlets with more force and emotion than she’s seen on him thus far. To think that a man like that was so domestic behind closed doors was an intriguing thought to explore. 

She was shaken from her thoughts once water overfilled the watering can, splashing her foot with a wet slap against the cobblestone flooring. 

She squeaked. 

She looked around, briskly even, and upon finding no one had heard her took a small breath of mild exasperation and shook the water off, shifting her feet back to paws, if even for a moment. 

With a quick readjustment of the soles of her boots, as well as a panic pour onto the nearby hydrangeas, she proceeded to water the other plants. Ugh. And the corpse flower. The smell was atrocious. Like that of rotting entrails, and to make it worse it was nearly always covered by flies in search of its foul nectar. Why, oh why did Rhea approve of this dastardly bloom?! She saved it for last, watered it and ran out with a wrinkled nose. Yuck. 

Now. What could she do? Lessons with Manuela were done for the day, the other students were in their respective classes until an hour later, lunch wasn’t here yet… 

She could try and have a conversation with the nearby animals? 

…It appears that dogs can only hold conversation for so long before a squirrel overtakes their attention span. 

Cats simply ignored her as though she never spoke at all. 

Only Dorte, the nearby horse, was kind enough to provide conversation. It was enjoyable to hear from him, though sad in a way as the things he talked about in his life were so small. So isolated compared to the other horses she had seen from a distance once upon a time. Dorte was also expressing a strange fondness of Marianne, the girl with blue hair that Verra had seen nearby once upon a time. The only few times she had seen the girl, she quickly dismissed herself, almost always wearing a downcast and soured expression. Towards herself or others, Verra didn’t know. 

With a small nose rub and an offered apple, Vers bid Dorte goodbye.

.. 

. 

Now what more was there to do? The sun was still at its peak, taking no regard to her wishes of the day ending sooner. She could try to read the endless scripture in the library but the thought of trying to read through one of the texts bored her to no end. She craved something rigorous, demanding and exhilarating! Something that could get her heart to throb back to life instead of this stagnant and slow beat it was presently in. Had she been with her kin she would be dancing through seemingly endless fields, claws tearing into the soil as they all chased each other through the hills. Laughter and quiet moments all the same were vibrant and lively and  _ familiar _ , but the more time that passed she doubted that she would rejoin them anytime soon. 

It had only been a month since she arrived at the gigantesque monastery; after days of stumbling around and trying to remember where everything lied, the real challenge was trying to grow accustomed to it all. The new smells, sights and sounds provided constant stimuli, much more than the softer sounds and noises from her tribe, which at best had more noise from the kits romping around as they travelled. Mirre said that Manuela could be trusted… and she heeded those words cautiously. At most Manuela was a flirt, but not as much a threat as much of a slight nuisance. Despite it all she was calm and organized, her office and respective backroom providing more respite than she could ask for in such a hectic environment. 

The warrens were still too wary even of the head-warrens wishes for integration. They all wanted the security that came with allegiance. Manuela was their ticket into the monastery; a hope that perhaps the church of Seiros could protect their kind too. After some talking with Manuela, there was a plan for a meeting with the Archbishop to speak of their terms of protection. And after even more deciding, they found an ambassador.

Verra. Not as old or weighed down as a Warren was, but not as naive as a kit. Not imposing or threatening, but still able to defend herself. But most importantly, willing to leave her home to gain a home. 

They had a domain northeast of the monastery, where the lands were more forgiving than most and were easier to tend. The people were not as inviting. Invasive, even. Heading out to try and hunt them as though they were beasts..! Her side throbbed in remembrance of what happened nearing the borders of Fodlan. A drunken man with an axe in hand; perhaps a lumberjack attempting to cut some firewood for the night, yelling and attacking upon seeing them near. The forest dark and their size likened to that of a bear, he swung blindly but met his mark all the same. The warrens were alerted, and she retreated back to get treated, knowing not of what happened to the man afterwards. 

Verra recalled it all as she walked with two warrens and a group of knights up to Garreg Mach, the air thinner than she imagined but the sights beyond her belief. The people stared in either amazement, shock or disdain, clutching onto religious figures or other devices as they made it up through the towns. The knights said nothing as they made it through, only the sound of metal clashing against itself as they walked. By the time they had made it to the cathedral, the taguel all took a bow while one of them, Shamir, beckoned for her to bow as well and Verra didn't hesitate in the slightest. Rhea stood at the top, her figure was imposing and strong; those who challenged her would surely meet a quick and untimely end. Manuela stood beside the two officials and headed over to greet them with a small but blessedly reassuring smile. The air felt thick with suspense, Rhea’s demeanor betrayed nothing, but the silent, leaking dread in Verra’s heart said otherwise. This was dangerous. 

The archbishop's advisor, Seteth, had glared at them in some level of distaste and suspicion but soon Rhea got him to lower his guard as the negotiation commenced soon after formalities. 

The terms were set under Lady Rhea’s calm but silently calculating eye. She would be able to stay, provided she worked her part; Manuela needed a nurse to help her in her clinic while the greenhouse needed a faculty member. She was also required to do a couple of odd jobs according to Seteth, but upon inquiry he brushed off the question, stating that he hated to repeat himself. She didn't ask again. It didn't seem like a bad offer, not that she ever planned to deny it. If it meant secure lands, it meant a secure home. In return she was provided with a spare room in Manuela’s office. 

She wasn’t going to be a student, not unless the professors somehow wished for her to join their class, that is. The thought relieved her to no end… but.. Would she truly leave once the school year was done? 

If only the monastery worked the way her tribe did… Life would be so much easier to comprehend. In her tribe, there were nurturers, warrens, hunters, medics, and gatherers. Warrens were the ones that overseed the other groups, providing their strength and guidance to the rest of the tribe, as well as spreading their experiences with the kits. They fought for the tribe and would be the first ones to call in danger, in times of travel often getting no sleep while protecting the others. 

Nurturers raised the kits and cared for them, regardless of if they were their own children or not. Everyone was as good as family if not more with their bonds as far as she knew. They were the teachers, the parents and the second defense for the kits. They also worked in making clothes, depending on what was needed.

Hunters had stronger bonds with the animals they hunted, making a term of contract with them. It was a beautiful cycle of respect and rebirth that allowed them to provide for their kin, praying for their souls to be reborn under The moon’s watchful eye. Once they are done they use every part of the deceased to use, from food to clothing to paint. Nothing would die in vain. 

Gatherers worked the lands for crops and other plants and made smaller contracts with the nearby wildlife. From producing crops to guiding the bees for better pollination to learning which plant did what. 

Medics worked with the herbs provided and made everything from oils to essences to medicines or drugs, caring for the sick how they could. But at times… they needed to come to terms with what they couldn't save. And when it was too bad and their kin wanted nothing more than a final mercy, sometimes sacrifice was in order. Medics had the saddest job of all. 

Depending on the age, Taguel worked in different parts of this system, turning to a warren once they had learned all parts of it. Learning and growing to be a well-rounded denmate, understanding what it meant to be a leader. Such was the way her people worked. 

Perhaps now she could never be a warren, learning from a different system, seeing all of these new subjects that she might never understand. 

...But if it meant their safety, she’d do her best to learn it all.

She sits on one of the benches, thoughts at a standstill as she finally tries to relax and enjoy the moment of silence instead of waiting for it to go by.

The bell chimes, once, twice, then sings its robust tune. She facepalms.

The students pour out of the classes and the cooks ring their bells, signaling the food is ready. She sees a few familiar faces come out, including Claude, who is smiling and pestering an outraged Lysithea before glancing over and sending her a small wave. She feels the same nervousness again but waves back, and gets up to join them.

She’ll try to enjoy the slower moments. Something told her they wouldn’t be here long. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Cool! Hated it? Sorry :< Maybe you can find other stories by clicking on the Fandom tag! If you liked the story, and you're curious on what else this AU has to offer, please check out @Comycat's profile! It has three other stories set in this very same universe!
> 
> Have a good day!


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